


Let Go

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Chryed, Incomplete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A child, a mother, a father - and his lover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Autumn 2010. Archived by request, though incomplete

Let Go

 

 

 

Chelsea was looking at him. Well he said looking, but giving him the evil eye was more like it. He'd bent over backwards to be nice to her, what with the stuff that had gone on with her mum and dad, but the bitch was so self-centred, even _now_ that even his well known capacity for patience had been thoroughly, _thoroughly_ exhausted.

“Got something on my face?” he asked in a mocking tone.

She tossed her hair and turned her back on him – not before giving him a look that could surely have turned _water_ to stone!

“Charming!”

Well not like he actually _worked_ here and needed to be nice to the staff. He helped out because he liked the atmosphere (and could never say no to Rox), but he was doing very nicely thank you very much and didn't _need_ the pittance of a barman's wage to see him – _them_ – through.

Sy had said he might drop in before his shift ended, but he hadn't turned up and Christian really wanted to see him.

God, imagine _him_ roped and tied and loving every minute! Who the hell would have thought he'd ever, ever settle down with a guy who actually fucking _prayed_ every day!

 _Must_ be love then.

 

**

“Hi, honey, I am home and raring to go!”

Syed, slipping his arms into a jacket, laughed. “Trust you to embellish.”

“Embellish is my middle name.” He caught him round the waist, wondering about the jacket. “Off somewhere?”

“Er, yeah.” Syed's eyes were treacherous – to _him_ – unable to hide a single thing he was feeling. He was hiding something – no, _worried_ about something.

Christian put a hand under his chin, making Syed look him in the eye. “What's up?”

There was a time when he'd have tried to fudge, obfuscate – either to protect himself or Christian. They didn't do that anymore. “Amira called – just a minute ago. I was about to come to the Vic when she phoned.”

Surprised, Christian found himself frowning, trying to read his expression. “Oh? What did she want?”

Syed shrugged. “She wouldn't say - just that I should meet her in town.”

“And you're going.”

“We need to sort stuff out.”

Christian held his gaze, still not sure what he was truly thinking or feeling. “Go then, but don't stay out all night. I did have plans...”

Syed put both arms around his middle and hugged him tightly. “I'll be back.”

Christian interpreted that to mean _more_ than the words appeared to be saying on the surface.

So he took the hint and with a final possessive kiss released him.

He watched him from the window, grinning when Syed, some way down the road turned and waved in his general direction. Cheeky sod...

**

He decided not to make dinner – Syed hadn't phoned and it had been hours. They'd get some fish and chips when he came back.

He sat down with a nice glass of wine and turned on the telly. Of course he wasn't going to be able to take in a single word but best make the effort so as not to drive himself spare wondering what the hell was keeping him.

He did feel guilty about the way she'd found out and, though it was stupid, guilty that Syed had always loved _him_ more, but not guilty enough to be happy with her borrowing his man for half a day!

He had to wonder if she mightn't turn out to be the type who'd rather have a sham marriage than no marriage at all.

And the thing is he was pretty sure that 8 months ago Syed would have been up for it – so long as she was prepared to 'forgive' him and maybe not make quite so many demands in the bedroom department...

What a joke! Syed couldn't live without sex – it would have driven him insane. He'd admitted as much, scolded Christian for ruining him for any sort of faux heterosexual sex-life. Christian hadn't said – hadn't needed to – that it was more than the dreadful sex that would have driven him insane.

But that was all behind them now.

Still he'd have been a hell of a lot happier if Amira had gone from their lives for good!

He had the dreadful feeling that they hadn't seen anything like the last of her!

 

**

He heard him come in, of course, but didn't move.

“Sorry, I know it's late. I should have phoned. Bought some fish and chips.” He placed the bag on the coffee table. He smelt of the cold night air and when Christian looked at him he saw that there were droplets of snow in his hair.

“It's snowing? I didn't realise. Here, let me help you get out of that jacket. God you're freezing!”

“I caught the bus back.” He was trembling, face cold and drawn.

Alarmed, Christian put both arms around him. “Come on, sweetheart, sit down. Do you want a drink?”

“No, I'm fine. Starving though.”

Busying himself with the bag Christian didn't look at him. “She didn't feed you then.” Syed didn't answer. “They look nice. Here. This'll get your hands warmed up.” He opened his own bag of chips hoping to encourage Syed to do the same. Something had happened, that was obvious. Now, was he to ask him about it or let him tell it in his own time? Hard to tell. Give it a bit, _then_ decide. “Gorgeous fish. He always has it fresh in...”

Syed surprised him by attacking the food, acting like a man who had literally been starving...

Christian went to fetch some glasses and that pop he liked.

When Syed had satisfied his hunger somewhat he put the bag to one side and looked at him. “I have a son.”

 

**

“Hard to say – has her big eyes, but not really that easy to tell.”

“Well she certainly kept that one quiet!”

He couldn't believe she'd managed to keep her trap entirely shut about that – for what 12 months? “So she what, wants you to get back together?” He asked the question with a mildness he certainly wasn't feeling. A baby, now that was hard to fucking trump! And a boy at that – she certainly held _all_ the cards now didn't she?

“I know. I was a bit surprised.”

Master of understatement was Sy. “And she wants child support?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Not sure? Well if she didn't call you there to sting you for maintenance what did she call you there for?”

Syed coughed a little, took a deep breath. “She wanted me to see our son.”

Our son. God. He remained silent, bereft of the words to express how he was feeling.

Syed looked at him. “He's beautiful, Christian. Perfect.” He was smiling like any proud new father might.

“He would be.” He'd always said Sy and Amira would make beautiful babies.

He needed a drink. A proper one.

Syed followed him into the kitchen. “She was really mellow about everything. I think motherhood's really mellowed her out.”

Oh good – just what he wanted to hear – Saint Amira! “I've heard it can.” He knocked back the tumbler and poured himself another.

“She said we could come to some arrangement.”

Christian looked at him. “I'm not sharing you.”

Syed stared at him. “I- Chris-” He reached for him.

Christian pulled away, moved away. “No, Syed, I have had it with that – I'm not going through that again.”

“So you want me to choose between you and my son.”

No, no of course he didn't. Just couldn't win could he? He went to the sink, poured the drink away and watched it disappear down the plughole. “Okay, Sy, anything you want.” _Some_ of him was better than none of him.

“Well that's just it, isn't it?” Syed had come up behind him, put both arms around his waist, pressed himself against his back. “I _cant_ have anything I want so I have to make a choice. She did want us to get back together – just as caretakers for Aftab at first, but then to become a proper family again. Those were her conditions for having him in my life. Christian I wasn't even tempted. He's beautiful yes, he's my flesh, but he wasn't made in love and already he's being used as a weapon by his parents. I want to be his father, but she holds all the cards. I know I have parental rights and all that legal stuff, but when she's acting the way she is – oh not _overtly,_ we didn't exchange a single angry word – I just know it won't end well and I'm happy, happy without either of them in our lives. I'm ready to be his dad – if I'm allowed – but I'm not going to fight for it. Christian, I chose you - again. It's _always_ going to be you. And don't think that you're forcing me into anything – you know damn well that I do what I please even if it doesn't please _you_.” He turned him, looked into his eyes. “You're my _life_ , and although Aftab will always be my son and I'll miss not being a proper father to him there'll be other children – if we want there to be – but we do have a son – he's just as much yours as he is mine and so long as you're going to stand by me well maybe I will fight for the right to see him. Just don't think that it means I regret the choice we made. I have never been so happy, Christian, and I know it's not just chance, that it would have happened for me anyway no matter whose head was on the pillow next to mine each night. I know it's you, only you, and that means that any choice that means I have you – all of you – in my life forever and ever – is the right one.”

Christian didn't trust himself to speak, so didn't. In the past he would not have believed a word of this pretty speech, knowing that Syed was good at fooling himself or feeling something yet not following through. But that Syed was gone, gone for good and here was his proof. He had felt certain that this would be the trump card to trump every single trump card ever played! And obviously Amira had thought so too, but she didn't know what _he_ did – that Syed was a different person these days, not subject to the same pressures, not blowing like a skinny reed in the raging wind the way he'd always been before.

And as he kissed his lover he took a moment to spitefully wonder just how much Amira's juices must have been flowing when she caught sight of the newly-minted guy. Ridiculously attractive before, his new found strength of will, confidence in who he was now made him magnetically, _irresistibly_ attractive and lately Christian had been practically preening as he caught all the looks, all the drooling, envious stares whenever they were together, because Syed was his, in every single way, so much so that he didn't even fucking _notice_ the stares.

So, Amira, thinking she could use the one thing he _couldn't_ give Syed against him had badly miscalculated, not knowing (for how could she) that Syed no longer felt that urge to fit in, to be 'normal'; that wanting the family had all been a part of that and that was no longer a part of him.

So she thought she could deprive Syed of his son, well they'd see about that. She' definitely miscalculated, dangling Syed's son in his face and then threatening to withhold him if he didn't fall in line with her plans. If Syed wanted Aftab in his life then by god they'd have him there! Amira wanted a fight? She'd come to the right place! Thought she'd seen Zainab Masood on her worst day? Honey wait until she saw Christian Clarke claws out and fighting on his man's behalf!

Little Aftab was going to know his dad, that was for damn sure. Not fair to deprive him of the wonderful father he knew Syed was going to be.

Amira, well she was just going to have to fucking deal!

 

**

Well he'd never expected anything else from Zainab, but Masood's attitude had surprised him – at first – until he recalled the sheer hypocrisy of people – smiling in your face and ripping you the moment your back was turned. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who were genuinely _completely_ blasé about his sexuality. He'd learned the hard way that tolerance was not at all the same animal as _acceptance_. Rox accepted him, saw him as just another bloke, a friend, a _person_ , ripping him about his choice in men, the time he spent on his appearance and the way he criticised her for hers at times; just completely fucking _fine_ about the fact that he was gay. It simply wasn't an issue for her, just who he was: like the fact that Chelsea was tall and black, her sis was blonde and blue-eyed like her, Syed was a gorgeous guy of Pakistani heritage – just a fact, not anything that mattered in deciding whether she was going to like you or not. It simply wasn't like that for most people – what they saw first, second, last was the fact that you slept with other guys. It was as though they simply _couldn't_ see beyond that, so that every time they'd see you it'd be accompanied by images of you, in bed or on your knees in a fucking cottage (judging by some of the ignorant bastards) with another bloke.

He and Syed didn't talk about this – it was still a bloody touchy subject because the fact is Syed still wanted to keep everything under wraps and _he_ felt it was unhealthy to do that at all, but that if you felt the need then you really shouldn't do it for longer than a few months. So, so fucking easy to get into that habit of hiding who you we were until you actually forgot that you had as much right to be who you were as any of the other fuckers walking the streets. Low-life tossers held in greater esteem than him simply because they fucked women! Well if you thought the world was ever going to give you anything you didn't go out and bloody _demand_ you were going to have a fucking hard time of it that was for damn sure. He and Syed still didn't agree on this, but that was okay – he knew that in time, Syed _would_ see it. Yeah he had a long way to go, but Christian was patient and Syed was worth any pain, any amount of patience exerted. He was definitely fucking worth it!

He didn't really know how it was that Syed's own parents didn't see it that way, but parents were by no means perfect, had the capacity to hurt you more than any knife-wielding bastard lurking in a dark alley. _He_ knew that and now Sy knew it too, but Syed had to see it _every_ day, had to see them blank him, turn and walk the other way whenever they'd see him walking toward them and Christian wasn't sure that that was any way to have a lesson reinforced. He knew – though he didn't say this to Syed – that his parents' actions would harden him, would, in time, make him as cynical as Christian himself and yes he _was_ waiting because it _was_ inevitable, but that didn't mean that he didn't _regret_ it with every fibre of his being.

He'd wanted Syed to choose him over his family but after a while had reluctantly accepted that it would never happen so when Sy had come to him that way, moved in with him, made his choice he'd rejoiced while a part of him had worried at it, wondering just how much Syed regretted his decision, how long it would take him to get over being forced to make it in the first place, whether he'd ever be able to accept that he'd probably lost them for good. It _wasn't_ Syed's fault, but Christian knew that it simply wasn't that easy to talk the guilt, _love_ the guilt out of someone and now Amira was back: Syed had a son and like it or not his family were now going to be involved in their lives once more...

**

Amira was living at home, playing housekeeper to her father apparently. The house was huge and gorgeous, mortgaged to the hilt no doubt. He'd learned much about the way people lived beyond their means – the face being of more importance than the substance to sustain the façade – and after having met the charming Mr. Shah could well believe it.

He'd considered coming here without telling Sy but that wasn't how they did things. Syed had been a little uncertain, a little worried (though he hadn't come right out and said so) that Christian would fuck things up for him, that Amira would take exception to his presence, but Christian had insisted, reassured him that he _wouldn't_ fuck things up, that he'd do everything he could to smooth their way. And Syed, because he was clearly besotted and blinded by love, had believed him.

He laughed to himself. Well yeah of course he'd believed him: he knew that Christian was _twice_ as besotted and yeah just as blinded by love so would even bloody sleep with her if it meant making things easy for Syed.

He hoped that it wouldn't come to it: not entirely sure Syed would be at all understanding if _that_ ever came to pass.

She opened the door herself.

She'd put on weight, and it suited her: hair held in a loose plait that trailed down her back, the child clean and sweet-smelling in her arms. Her first instinct was to smile, before recalling who he was, how he'd wronged her. “What do you want? How did you know where I lived?”

“Phone book.” He was staring at the kid – Aftab. He did look like Syed – had his colouring, his eyes...

“And I suppose you've come to tell me to back off.”

He smiled at the baby, trying to keep his hands to himself, knowing that he'd get the chance to touch him later. Why offend his mother when there was no need? “No, Amira. Look, can we talk?”

“I've nothing to say to you.”

“No? Well I've quite a lot to say to you.”

She stared at him. “I hate you, “ she said conversationally.

“I know.”

And that seemed to be the magic words because she moved aside and allowed him to step over the threshold. As he did so he found himself unable to resist and stroked a finer against the child's soft cheek...

**

“You have a beautiful home, Amira.”

“I grew up here.” She was watching her son as he lay looking up at her, smiling and making faces at him.

“Beautiful.”

She turned and glared at him. “Yeah, well it's beautiful but it's not where I want to be. You made sure I'd be stuck here forever.”

“Amira, no, that's not fair.”

“Fair? You think it's fair that I'm lumbered with a kid – no husband, no income, no means of ever getting away from my father? I suppose you think that being gay means you know all _about_ unfair.”

“Only the part that applies to me – I don't think that I'm the only one that's had a hard time. Look, Amira, hate me if you want, blame me if you want, but there's a beautiful child involved now and for his sake we need to put our differences to one side.”

She looked like she was considering telling him to fuck off out of it, then looked at her baby, touched him, smiling and said: “What do you want?”

 

**

He knew that Syed had been watching him from the window, his studiedly casual 'Hi' and immediate re-focus on the television making him _sure_ of it.

“Hi. Something smells good.”

“Tried out a new recipe.”

Christian leaned over and kissed him. “Meaning a new Patak's curry sauce.”

“Well it's not one we've tried before.” He smiled, looked into his eyes, trying to mask his anxiety, kissed him. “Won't be long. Your hands are freezing.”

“Are they?” He placed them against Syed's cheek, leaping away as he yelped and aimed an ineffectual blow in his general direction. “God, you really need boxing lessons.” He headed toward the kitchen. “Full spread or just naans today?”

“I made pillau rice as well.”

“Hmm,” said dubiously, opening pots and peering inside.

“Oh okay I got it from Sainsbury's but you always complain about my rice.”

“Well you're getting better.” Honestly couldn't get worse, his taste-buds still tingling at the memory of the first rice experience he'd at at Syed's hands. For someone whose family were in the catering trade he was a hell of a cook! And no not in a good way. “Smells and looks just perfect.”

Syed was standing right behind, hand resting casually on his backside. “Well Sainsbury cooked it so...” His other hand rested against Christian's chest, eyes examining his face. “You look really cold.”

“Warm me up then,” he suggested, raising the hand to his lips.

Syed smiled that teasing smile Christian knew meant he'd be well rewarded if he went along with the tease... “On the table in 5 minutes.”

“Sy, I don't think the table's quite big enough...” He laughed as Syed pinched him. “I'll get it ready then, shall I?”

"And the table.”

He winked, laughed and went to get the table ready.

Well Syed was doing well, better than he'd expected. He wasn't sure  _he'd_   
have been able to keep it on an even keel this long...

“Want any help?”

“Got it covered, thanks. Wash your hands!”

“Yes sir!”

When he returned the meal was on th table and Syed had started without him.

“Well you're still upright and not blue in the face so I gather it's safe.”

“Can't go far wrong with a jar of curry sauce, onions and chicken breasts.”

Christian said nothing. Syed stuck out his tongue.

They ate in relative silence, Christian very aware of Syed's attention, the almost visible agitation in his frame. But they needed to eat first. Then they'd talk...

 

**

Syed was a cuddler – was he ever. It was as though he was trying to make up for something, maybe for the fact that he was still a little jittery when it came to  _public_ affection. Whatever it may have been Christian was not objecting. He no longer minded that Syed minded them being publicly affectionate because he understood now that it wasn't that Syed minded anyone knowing that he was Christian's beloved, he just preferred to keep the affection private. Christian knew that there were lots of straight guys who were the same – women too, no doubt – and that it wasn't always indicative of shame or fear as he'd wanted to believe. They didn't talk that much about it, Syed feeling that he'd said his piece, that it wasn't an issue so far as he was concerned. And yeah he could see that, see that it had been his issue, not Syed's. As far as Syed was concerned the fact that Christian had no doubt whatever about the fact that he was Syed's one and only was all that mattered, which probably explained why he was so affectionate at home: this was what was important – the private relationship not the public one...

It was funny because he'd never had this before – this domestic bliss, this certainty about his place in another guy's heart. It had always been 'well it's going fine now, but just wait, just wait until he sees someone else he wouldn't mind screwing or when I mix up the whites with the coloureds or leave the top off the toothpaste'. Never sure, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing too that it wouldn't be long before it'd be  _his_ eye that started to rove, getting bored, feeling constricted, seriously stifled.

It had  _never_ been this way.

And he'd fallen for him so damn quickly; not sex, not that at all. It had scared him to death not because he knew he was falling but because he  _welcomed_ it, wanted it, wanted it  _so_ much, was prepared to put just about anything to one side for the sake of this guy – up to and including his pride. And Sy had really hurt him yet it hadn't mattered, because he was just so worth it – his love was so worth having that he could honestly say that he would do it again. If the outcome was this,  _this_ relationship with  _this_ man then he'd suffer twice the amount of pain, shame, guilt and still think it worth the price.

“Thanks for the meal.” He kissed him. His lips tasted hot – the curry had been pretty spicy. “I think your tongue would probably bring tears to my eyes.” He saw the look in Syed's eye as he tried to track his thoughts then stopped thinking as Syed gave him the opportunity to test his theory...

**

“She hit you.” Syed was holding his hand, playing with his fingers. “I saw it the moment you came through the door. I know you probably tried to hide it, but it's turning into a bruise.”

Christian didn't answer at once, simply enjoying Syed's warmth, the scent of his hair as it brushed against his face. He'd known that he'd seen the mark of her hand, of course, but he hadn't really wanted to have that conversation – not important, unproductive. She'd hurt him, but he'd understood why she'd done it and if there'd been any way to keep it between the two of them alone he would have done so. “Doesn't matter. I said something that upset her. Sy, don't ask – it isn't important.”

“Was he there? Aftab? Did she do it in front of him?”

Christian laughed. “Syed he's a baby – he's not going to know.”

“I just don't want him seeing that. I know it's stupid...”

“It's not.” A soft kiss against his temple. “But I promise you that was the _last_ time. She needed to do it, I doubt she intends to make a habit of it – she's not much of a fighter, Amira, but she packs quite a wallop for such a tiny thing.”

He could tell that Syed was upset, but what could he do? It sort of wasn't really Sy's business what went on between him and Amira. She'd been  _completely_ focused on him, Syed hardly mentioned. Obviously she saw their roles in her pain very differently – she was still in love with Syed and though she  _wanted_ to hate him simply couldn't, but him oh him she had no trouble hating. 

It was probably all really obvious to Syed in any case, so why dwell on it? Aftab was the most important factor in this equation and he'd take a hundred wallops to get the outcome he wanted as far as gaining Syed access to his son was concerned.

“Look.” He took out his mobile, handed it to him. “He is gorgeous – just like his daddy.” He watched Syed's face as he looked at his son, saw the expression change from morose to ecstatic and found himself smiling too. Yeah any amount of harsh words and wallops to see that expression on Sy's face. “She wants to see you.”

Syed nodded, still engrossed in the pictures of his son. “I want a picture of you holding him.” His brown eyes were beautiful, so beautiful, so Christian kissed him and nodded, unable to find the words to let him know just how    
_much._ ..

 

**

Of course he _got_ it now, but that still didn't give her any excuse to be acting like he'd personally took her and fucked her in the arse, though from what he'd heard she was not exactly a stranger... “Look, Chelsea if there's something you want to say just come right out and say it. I'm tired of feeling your daggers in my back every time I fucking come in to work!”

“Don't know what you're on about. Not my fault you're paranoid.” She had her arms folded, nails the length of the Eiffel Tower (painted a _terrifying_ shade of plum) resting claw-like against the delicate flesh of her arms. Ever since the 'incident' with her daddy she'd been a bit – well she'd always been – in his estimation – a bit of a good time girl, just a little shallow (okay he was being kind here) – but after her week in the spotlight she'd changed – got a lot worse! He'd always considered her a seriously shallow bitch, but now she seemed intent on outdoing even herself at her shallow worst!

If he didn't have to bloody deal with her several times a week – more if he and Sy socialised – he wouldn't have cared, but from treating him like some curiosity she didn't really have time for she'd instead become extremely... focused... on him – watching, watching, all the bloody time. He'd be laughing with a punter, turn round and find her staring at him, nostrils flaring as though she'd just encountered a vile pong. For Rox's sake he'd let it go, knowing she didn't need staff unrest to contend with along with all the rest of it, but the bitch was really getting on his tits!

He could well see why she and Amira would feel they had something in common – maybe lots? - but that she'd pretend to actually fucking _care_ about her was a laugh riot. She cared about nothing and no-one that didn't have a direct impact or association with herself and he could only presume that she was giving it large because she simply wanted an excuse to get at him - just for the sheer hell of it probably. He knew her type – plenty of gay fuckers who were _exactly_ the same way – so shallow he wondered how the fuck they made it through the day, what the fuck they actually saw when – _if_ – they ever looked into their own eyes in the mirror. Being around people like that made you feel like fucking giving up, just saying sod it and going off to live on an island somewhere – nothing there, nothing but spite and self-interest coming back at you. The only time they ever got involved in a 'friend's' issue was if there was some pay-off there for them.

“All I'm saying, Chelsea, is that if you keep doing that me and you – well we're going to have problems. I don't know about you but when I come to work, have to deal with fucking punters all day long the last thing I need is for my co-workers to be getting up my nose too! So either clear the air or get the fuck over it! Whatever _it_ is.”

He waited, expectant, knowing damn well that there was no way she'd acquiesce, even acknowledge that he'd made any kind of sense, had made any kind of impact. He just wanted to see if she'd fucking _surprise_ him!

“I'm taking my break now. I'll do the glasses when I get back.”

“Yeah, see you, Chelsea,” he told her retreating back, shaking his head. So fucking predictable. But he thought she _had_ got the message all the same and fully expected her tactics to change now. Didn't think she was _capable_ of subtlety but he was sure she'd be 'assaulting' him in a _different_ way now. He was so, so looking forward to that...

 

**

“Were Chelsea and Amira close? Before she left?”

Syed looked up, surprised. “I think so. Quite close. Why?”

Christian sighed: boring subject but he felt that he needed to get Syed's perspective. Maybe there were things he didn't know. “Dunno, but for a while now Chelsea's been giving me the evil eye. I noticed it first a couple of days before Amira got in touch with you. Do you think Amira told her about the baby?”

Syed looked thoughtful. He was wearing that shirt Christian loved on him, hair pushed back behind his ears, unshaven, looking a little harried. Christian _loved_ this look on him, but had learned to respect when Sy wasn't in the mood and he _definitely_ wasn't in the mood... “I know she doesn't have any close female relatives... I suppose she _might_ have. Why?”

“Not sure if I'm going off half-cocked on this one, but there's just something about the way she's been glaring at me that makes me think she's got some _specific_ bee in her bonnet as far as I'm concerned. Obviously she's been a bit cool ever since you and Amira broke up, but this is different.”

“She's giving you a hard time?”

“No, but it's _irritating_ , not knowing if someone's got hold of the wrong end of the stick, and because they're not talking you have no way of clearing it up. For all I know it could be because I was flirting with some guy she had her eye on.”

Syed glared at him. “Not funny.”

Christian laughed, planted a playful kiss on his forehead. “I breathe, I flirt. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I like to be there when you're doing it, so I can keep an eye.”

“More like so that you can sit there grinning smugly because you know that no-one else knows what you know.”

“Oh? And what's that then?”

Christian whispered in his ear. Syed turned, smiled and kissed him. “And don't you _ever_ forget it.”

Christian noted with a little smugness of his own that Syed's mood appeared to have... changed...

 

**

He'd asked and Sy had said yes because they both trusted her and old habits did die hard, after all. He couldn't say how or why, but he just knew that with Jane in the know they'd now have another weapon in their arsenal. Well not a weapon so much as a little more _armour._

She hadn't seemed particularly surprised just...worried. “Christian, remember Amy. I know how-”

“And I learned from that, Jane. I learned that I want to be that – be someone's uncle, someone's second daddy. But I'm not desperate this time, not trying to fill up the empty spaces: I just know that this is what I want and that I'll be bloody good at it. I've _already_ made that space in my heart for him – any part of Sy...”

He saw her eyes soften the way they always did when he spoke of his love for Syed. “I just don't want to see you hurting again, Christian.”

He hugged her, kissed her on the cheek. “And _that's_ why I'm glad you're my big sister.”

“I'm not _that_ much older-”

“Yeah well when it comes to siblings even a few hours count. Didn't you know that?”

Her smile was wry. “Well I do think of you as my baby brother and look at the state of you, so I suppose so.”

He laughed. “Wanna see him?” He already had his mobile out and held toward her.

“God yes!” clearly only just resisting the urge to snatch it from him.

Yeah, he mused, watching her face as she saw Aftab for the first time, really good to have her in their corner...

 

**

Business was slow, which was bloody typical. Since he _wanted_ distractions – and lots of them – typical that everything would be completely dead.

He hung around the flat for a few hours, reading, staring at the phone, drinking endless cups of tea until he drove himself crazy. Had to get out, needed to stop bloody _fretting_.

But he didn't want company – was too agitated for company – besides, he didn't want Rox to know yet and the mood he was in he was likely to bloody tell her!

The West End was always good for distractions and he did need to buy some new outfits. Had his eye on this shirt for Sy – cost a bloody arm and a leg, but he just knew he'd look like a wet dream come true in that style, that colour. And _he_ could use at least _two_ new suits. Yeah he had expensive tastes and he could just see Sy's face as he carefully didn't ask how much, but what was money? Enjoying yourself – making sure your man had a good time, that's all that mattered. And if he had to work his arse off during the week to ensure they did that – and looked _good_ whilst doing it – he was more than willing pay that price.

And yeah the retail therapy did help – as he'd known it would – but afterwards, laden down with bags, feeling pretty pleased with himself the recollection of the reason _why_ he'd had to resort to the therapy in the first place came barrelling in and he actually _felt_ the resulting frown alter his expression. Damn! What the fuck time was it anyway? 5 0 clock and he hadn't bloody called! This is what he'd been so worried about. Well, no, he hadn't _said_ : 'make sure you call me at least once every two hours otherwise I'll fret' because that was just bloody stupid! But he'd expected Syed to get it anyway. And Christian was fairly sure that he _did_ get it so the fact that he hadn't called – even once! - made him really, really fretful.

The bus trip seemed to take a bloody age; caught up in traffic, every single pensioner in the city out tonight! He'd never really _hated_ old people before, but god's sake!

And then off the bus, hurrying to the Square. Why? Was he going to be there when he got in? He was kidding himself and wasn't a good enough bullshitter to even _try_ to pretend that he wasn't. Syed hadn't called all day and he wouldn't be home. He _knew_ that, why bloody pretend otherwise?

In the flat he stood for long, blank moments simply staring at the sofa: so many great moments spent with him there...

Suddenly impatient with himself he dumped the bags on the sofa and took out his phone...

 

**

“...call me.”

“I'm sorry. I did mean to, but Aftab isn't well-”

“God, what's wrong with him?” His mood whiplashed straight from gnawing resentment to sharp anxiety: he knew how helpless parents felt when their babies fell ill – no chance of the little mites actually _telling_ you what was wrong; no way to find a way to effectively help them. So, so frustrating. “He's okay, isn't he?”

“Well he's sleeping now, but he was in a lot of distress earlier. We had to call the doctor in.”

“And what did he say was wrong?”

“She. Oh she couldn't find anything wrong – nothing serious or concrete. Christian, don't worry. He's a _baby_ , I think these things happen don't they? The doctor didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about, so let's not worry then, okay?”

“And you're sure he hasn't got a rash or a headache or – Did you feel the back of his neck? I hear that-”

“He doesn't have meningitis.”

Christian took a deep breath, tried to calm himself. God, why was he being held at arms length like this? So damn frustrating. “How's Amira coping?”

“In general or-?”

“I don't know, in general.”

“Fine as far as I can tell. Aftab's well looked after – clean, well-fed, content. You'd expect that from Amira, though, wouldn't you? She's not happy with her dad, but she loves him – Aftab – and that's the most important thing isn't it?”

There was something in his voice... “What aren't you telling me?”

“Christian...”

“No, Sy, tell me.” He'd had a hell of a fucking day, worrying about him all fucking day and the frustration and resentment was bubbling up. “I fucking know there's something you're not telling me, so just fucking tell me.”

“Christian, I know I should have got in touch. I'm really sorry-”

He just bloody _hated_ when he got that expression in his voice, the only consolation here the fact that he couldn't _see_ it on his face too. “Just tell me – don't soft soap me, just bloody tell me!”

“She's asked me to stay over – her dad's away for a few days – and she really needs some help.”

He knew it! He'd just fucking known she'd try it sooner or later. But he hadn't expected it to be done in such a way as to leave him with his hands effectively _tied_ , no way to even counter her attack. “How long?”

“Well, tonight, of course. We didn't agree to any longer than that.”

And yet there would be at least one more night – day – they both fucking knew that. Any point even saying it? “You need anything?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay, I'll pack-”

“ _You_. I need you.”

He wasn't sure that Syed meant to take the wind out of his sails that way – he _could_ be manipulative, but not when it came to this, not when it came to his heart. “I love you.”

“Double for me.”

“Well then.” He was smiling like an idiot, but that was nothing new – that's what Syed brought him to - on a regular fucking basis.

“See you tomorrow. Come pick me up.”

“I'm getting a few photos of daddy with his little boy,” he threatened.

Syed laughed. “I'll make sure daddy and his little boy are looking their best then.”

“You can come as you are then.”

“You soppy old sod.”

“Got it in one.”

“Miss you.”

“Only been a few hours.”

“So you don't miss me too?”

Christian stuck out his tongue at the man he couldn't see. “Only half as much.”

“Okay if we're making a contest of it and there are winners and losers and you lose if you're the one who misses your lover more then I'm _happy_ to be the loser.”

“Sy...” He felt his heart pounding, wanting him so _much_.

“Love you, miss you, can't wait to see you tomorrow. I should have phoned you to tell you that, should have let you know what was happening with Aftab and that's why I want you there tomorrow: you're a part of this – it's not just me as his daddy, it's you too and I think we need her to see that, to know that-”

“No, Sy, I don't want that. She and I are still sore with each other and I don't want to jeopardise things for you just because I want to be a part of his life. I can take a step back, you know-”

“Not an option.” Christian heard him sigh. “Christian, how do I make you understand this? It will never be me, Amira and Aftab – it will always be me, you and Aftab. Look, she knows I'm with you. I made my terms clear – I want to be his dad and if necessary will take it to court – but she doesn't want that – she _wants_ me to be a part of his life. She's not a bad person, Christian-”

“Sy, I know that. I don't blame her for any of this. If anything I feel guilty when I'm around her and it makes things uncomfortable, awkward. I know she hates my guts so I don't expect her to be happy that I'm playing happy families with you and her son-”

“My son. Look Christian she could have just left me to think that I had no child, that I hadn't fathered her son, but she chose to involve me in her life - and his life - so now I'm involved, but I'm not single – and she knows that. I have a life, a partner and I've made it clear that those are the terms on which we do this thing – that you're a part of my life and therefore a part of his. No she wasn't ecstatic at that thought, but she accepts it, you know, and her _acceptance_ is all we need. If there wasn't something in it for her she wouldn't have called me the other day, so whether or not she and you will ever be best mates again makes no difference. You're an important – no, _the_ most important thing in my life, Aftab included – and I intend to have you both with me. Amira will deal with it, Christian. It doesn't have to be as bad as you think. You have me and always will so come on, get your camera ready and come be a part of my son's first opportunity to pose for the camera.”

Christian laughed, heart full to bursting. “Well if he's anything like his dad... Wonder how long it'll take for him to start demanding a mirror!”

“Oh you have a nerve! I suppose someone's conveniently forgotten the time when we were late for work because we were so glued to the mirror that we forgot that we were actually supposed to be in a _hurry_ since we were already running late for our first appointment of the day-”

“Couldn't get my hair right.”

“Weak.”

“I know.” He found himself laughing again. “Can you imagine all three of us fighting over the mirror every morning?”

"Actually I can.” He was laughing too. “Wonder if he's any chance of growing up straight.”

“Oh god, just so long as I don't have to give him the birds and bees about girls.”

“Well don't bloody look at me! I know even less than you do!”

“Says the man who was married.”

“I know, mad isn't it? But I'll probably have to leave all of that...heterosexual...stuff to Uncle Tam.”

Christian roared with laughter, imagining poor Uncle Tam attempting to field the penetrating questions he was absolutely certain would be coming his way. “Do you think we'll be good parents?”

“No doubt in my mind. Not one. I loved being with Kamil and I know how you are with your nephews and nieces. We'll make great parents. We do, after all, have a pretty good idea on what _not_ to do.”

There was a short telling silence here, the bitterness in Syed's voice catching him a little off-guard. Still a very, very sore subject, pretty much entirely off-limits, but how much longer could it remain that way now that they were grandparents? Still, this wasn't the time to bring it up. “Of course Jane will spoil him completely.”

“I know and I don't think she's the only Clarke who'd have a tendency to do that...”

“What? No I wouldn't. I'd be really strict!”

“Yeah, of course you would, Christian. He won't be wrapping you around his little finger at all.”

“He _is_ very cute.”

“Exactly. See? You're already half gone and he isn't even there!” Christian didn't answer since there was no way to dispute this. “Anyway, I have to go. I'm ordering in some food.” Christian very carefully said not a word. “See you tomorrow. I'll phone, but if you're not busy can you make a day of it?”

Smiling, Christian agreed, determined in his mind to ensure that the day would be a fantastic one. “Love you, baby. See you tomorrow.”

It was funny because ever since Aftab had come into their lives – if only in a fairly peripheral way - Syed had somehow managed to tell him – and show him (several times) - just how very much he was loved. Was that because he knew that Christian need to be reassured of his place in Syed's heart or was it that the fact of having this new addition allowed him to see how important Christian was to him? Whatever it was Christian knew that a day that had for the most part been slightly fucked had somehow turned itself around completely and been elevated to one of those days that made life seem entirely worth living.

But then that's what Syed did on a regular basis – made life seem worth living; a mere smile , a few casual words... Christian was lucky to have him and resolved to never take that for granted, to never believe that what he had in this man was mundane, standard. It wasn't – not for him - and he was resolved to never, ever forget this.

Nor let Syed forget it either...

 

**

Well Sy had said that the only thing he wanted him to bring was himself and that was fine, great. Didn't mean he couldn't bring other things in addition to himself though, did it? That nice shirt for instance and those jeans that did something really special to his arse. They were taking photos and Aftab would no doubt look beautiful – well so would his daddy. Syed always looked beautiful, but it would be nice for him to feel that he was making an extra special effort.

And well, he was going to put in an extra effort too. No he didn't feel at all threatened by Amira's presence, but why deny that he'd get a thrill from that look he knew he'd see in Syed's eye when he turned up? He knew exactly what Syed liked in terms of his attire, what turned him on, and had no problems playing up to that, making good use of his inside knowledge. That's what you did for the man you loved: made him feel good by giving him what he wanted, whether it was a feast for his belly or a feast for his eyes. Syed did exactly the same for him too – well not so much the feast for the belly part, but the other bits? Oh yeah, to the power of eleven!

He'd always seen a rather different side to Amira than Syed appeared to. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that his attitude toward her, perhaps as simple a fact as the reality of not having any kind of agenda where she was concerned, had always been that of amused tolerance for the most part. He liked her, but had no illusions about her character. She was a user. Well, her background made it difficult to for her to be humble in his opinion and the fact that she didn't look like the back end of a bus and had bagged the ultimate prize in Syed had probably had her thinking that she was heading for the top – in every way that mattered. So this, this must have been quite the shock to the system.

Had he learned of the pregnancy earlier he wasn't sure _how_ he'd have felt, and that was the god's honest truth. He knew that no matter how Syed had felt about him he'd have chosen her and that still smarted somewhere deep inside. No, he knew that Syed had chosen him, had really chosen him, had been prepared to actually choose him over his family, yet he didn't delude himself into thinking that it hadn't been close, that his life could have ended up very differently had circumstances not worked in his favour. And well, Amira had been the ultimate loser in all of this.

He had no idea why she hadn't confronted Syed when she'd first discovered the pregnancy, why she'd waited until Aftab was born, why indeed she was being so reasonable now, but he'd seen a change in her. She was _deeply_ unhappy, not even her beloved son enough to take the shadows from her eyes. Her home was beautiful, she even had help in looking after the house so she could devote more time to her son, but every muscle in her body had been tense, every stare at him filled with bitter resentment. It was clear that she blamed him, very much so, for her present woes. And no, he didn't imagine that she was being physically abused by her doting daddy, but he'd met the bastard, knew that he'd been in prison, that Amira had been estranged from him for a long time so had a pretty good idea that it was all on the surface – the perfect life, the perfect family. She wasn't ever going to confide in _him_ , of course, but he could practically taste her desperation.

He was pretty sure that somehow or other her plan was to use Syed as an escape hatch. He just didn't quite know how, or what exactly she had in mind.

 

**

Syed was the one who opened the door to him. He was carrying his son in his arms and his smile was wide and excited. “What kept you?” he demanded, embracing him, the baby between them. “I swear he knew you were coming and has been fretting ever since this morning. Haven't you, sweets? Yes you have, you've been waiting for Uncle Christian, haven't you?”

Christian became aware that they were both grinning idiotically at the baby who was staring back, tiny hands reaching... “He is bloody gorgeous. Aren't you, beautiful? Yes, you are beautiful just like your daddy, just like your mummy. You are going to be breaking hearts in a few years time aren't you, little man?”

“Oh please, give him a little longer. Come on. We're in the kitchen.”

“She alright?” he asked, closing the door.

“Bit of a sleepless night. I helped as much as I could.” He grinned at the baby in his arms and kissed him. “You kept us up all night didn't you? Yes, you did. You were crying cos you wanted company...”

“Sure it wasn't cos he had a full nappy?”

Syed gave him a superior look. “I have a little more experience with babies than you do.”

“Well I'm not sure that's anything to be proud of, Stud.”

“Shut up. Christian's here,” he announced, making his way into the ...huge... kitchen.

Christian followed him, trying not to gasp. “Hi, Amira, thanks for inviting me.”

She stared rudely at him, gave an abrupt nod then turned immediately to Syed, holding out her arms for the child. “I'm going to take him upstairs.”

“Okay.” Syed met his eye and gave a subtle shake of the head. “Alright to make breakfast for us?”

Another unfriendly look at him followed by a shrug. “I don't want anything.”

“Your head still sore?”

“A bit, getting better though. Probably lie down for a bit.”

“Well why don't I take Aftab while you go back to bed? You didn't get much sleep and I know your head's worse than you're letting on.”

This was way too reasonable a suggestion for her to shoot down, yet he could see that she was sorely tempted. Was it all to do with his presence?

“Okay,” she agreed, still holding on to Aftab, flashing a look in his direction. He was fairly sure that she wanted to make it clear to Syed that he was the one who was to look after their son, that Christian wasn't allowed to get his hands on him, but no way for her to say so without getting Syed's back up. She could care less about offending _him_ , of course, but she and Syed were getting on and this was obviously important to her. “I'll just feed him, then you can come up and take him.” She held Syed's eye, here, obviously trying to convey some message, some subtle 'we really need to talk – again' message. He amused himself trying to imagine how she'd put it to Syed, just how _subtle_ she'd try to be. As he recalled, subtlety wasn't one of her strong points.

“Okay. And you sure you don't want anything? Juice? Water?”

“A bit of apple juice please. See you in a minute, Syed.” Taking her son she left the room.

They both waited, listening until they heard the subtle click of a door closing in the distance then both let out a collective breath, looked at each other and grinned.

“I could be wrong, Sy, but I don't think she likes me very much.” He took Syed by the waist, pulled him into an embrace.

“I have no idea where you get that impression! She was Miss Hostess of the Year!”

He smelled of an unfamiliar soap, an unfamiliar toothpaste, but his taste was still the same. “Missed you.”

“You have no idea. I was glad that Aftab kept me distracted all night...” He had both arms around Christian's neck, laying soft, subtle kisses on his jaw, and the sensitive skin underneath. “Can't wait to get you home.”

“Well we've a while yet and what is it they say – anticipation keeps the cock hard and the juices flowing?” He laughed when Syed scoffed and pushed him him away. “Well consider that me coining a new saying then.”

“Not one for _public_ consumption, I'm guessing.” He'd turned to the fridge. “What do you fancy? Apart from me,” he continued, turning with a grin.

“And now he's stealing all my lines.” He came up behind him, pretending to examine the fridge with him, snaked both arms around his waist. “I brought you a change of clothes.”

"How romantic. Omelette? Cheese?”

“I'll take care of it.”

“I can cook an omelette,” he protested.

Christian kissed him, moved him gently out the way. “I know you can. See, there you go, grate this.”

He laughed at Syed's pout, smacked him on the arse as he moved away. “And I could do with some onions chopping. Oh and maybe some mushrooms, and yeah peppers too.”

“Oh hold on, so what are you going to be doing?”

“Making it all taste like heaven.”

Syed rolled his eyes, but made no demur.

 

**

“So she was okay last night, but had a change of heart this morning?”

Syed sighed, wiped at his chin. “Something like that, yeah. I think it was the rotten night she had.”

“Hmm.” He personally felt that it was just being away from Syed's charm and persuasive presence that had brought her back to her senses. “But you don't think she's going to start being difficult do you?”

Syed hesitated. Good. At least they were being honest. “I think she might try, but like it or not she has to accept us, that if she has me in her life then she has you too. Right, we don't have to make it in her face or anything-”

“Of course.” Syed seemed to want to hear him say it.

“But I did make it clear that we'd _both_ be looking after Aftab. She wants me to have him now and again – when he's a little older maybe – and I don't see how she can possibly expect-”

“Jane!”

They looked at each other and both slowly grinned.

 

 

**

 

“Oh look, look at your daddy, isn't he just gorgeous? Yes, that is your daddy. And guess what, you're going to be twice as gorgeous when you grow up. Yes you are, oh yes, yes you are!”

He looked up to find Syed smiling at them, indeed looking gorgeous in the shirt and jeans Christian had brought for him. “Clearly _I'm_ going to have to be the strict daddy round here. Look at you, you're a puddle of goo.”

“Oh come off it, I've seen you with him.” He grinned at Aftab. “Yes, we see how you have daddy wrapped around your teeny, tiny little fingers. Oh what teeny, tiny fingers! What if I were to - “ He pretended to eat a teeny, tiny finger. “Did you see that – he smiled.”

“Wind.”

“Oh yes, right – very specific and convenient wind. “ He grinned again at the child. “Daddy is gorgeous but full of shit. Yes that's right; he's full of shit...”

“Please do not let my son grow up thinking that that's an actual _description_.” He squatted down beside them, his own face wreathed in smiles as he looked at his son. “Your uncle Christian doesn't have a clue, does he? No, that's right – he thinks that 3 month old babies are _capable_ of smiling in response to specific stimuli. Who's full of shit again? I know, son, I know.”

Christian, about to make a comeback stopped when he saw Amira in the doorway, watching them. Her expression, unusually for Amira. was veiled, unreadable. When she saw him notice her she changed, moved with some animation, all smiles; her bad mood apparently gone. “And you both talk to him like he can actually understand a word you say. May I have him?” Politeness itself as she addressed him.

“Sure.” He handed Aftab to his mum. “Amira, he is absolutely gorgeous. You've done a great job.”

“He's a good baby.” She kissed his tiny ear.

“You look better: that sleep must have done you good.”

And it seemed to have for she smiled, quite genuinely at him. “Sorry about not speaking to you earlier – my head was banging, I was tired and cranky. I should have been a better host.”

“Don't worry about it, you should see me after a night on the town.”

She laughed. “I do actually remember. Do you remember that one night-”and abruptly broke off as she met Syed's neutral's gaze.

The atmosphere became all at once ultra tense.

He didn't know _exactly_ what she'd been about to say, but could guess and though he and Sy were okay, trusted each other, were _sure_ of each other he was aware that Syed absolutely detested the fact that he'd put it about just a little before they got it together. It was something they'd silently agreed never to talk about.

And they were all forcefully reminded of who Amira had been to both of them, of how it was that they found themselves in this _particular_ situation. He and Amira had been friends – he had genuinely liked her and she him and here they were with the man who'd come between them; here they were with the friends who'd betrayed another friend, here they were with the man who had betrayed his wife with one of her friends...

And that's how easily it could all come crashing down around them – a wrong word in the wrong place and the edifice could crumble....

He stared at Amira's lowered head, then looked at Syed.

Syed was staring straight ahead of him, arms folded, carefully not looking at _either_ of them.

 

 

**

“Professional photographer, is it?”

Amira frowned at him for a moment, then glanced at Syed who was still staring into space, although clearly his thoughts were not _drifting_ by any means, but fixed very firmly on his two companions, and nodded. “Yes. My dad insisted. We're having him back at the weekend – when my dad's here – but I had the number and dad's paying through the nose for it anyway so I thought I'd have these ones done.” With the man who'd betrayed her – and his lover... Christian had no doubt that her father would go ballistic if he ever found out. He wondered how she intended to stop that from happening.

“I love Aftab's outfit.” Smiling he chucked Amira's son under the chin, captivated once more by the child's enormous eyes and beautiful face. “God he's beautiful.”

“I know.” Amira was smiling at her son and he recalled that, how rarely she smiled, how rarely the smile was a genuine one. The love she felt for this child shone from every pore. “Even when he came out, covered in goo the nurses were saying he was gorgeous.”

“All your kids will be gorgeous, Amira. Especially your daughters.”

Their eyes met and he saw the sadness in her hers before she lowered her gaze. “I don't want a daughter. Sons have it easier.” She kissed her son's head.

Christian, knowing he had to tread carefully, touched her on the arm. She felt warm, smelled lovely “You'd make the difference, Amira – mothers always do. And I know you'd be a good mum. The more women show that they value their daughters, despite everything, the more likely it is that those girls will grow up and do the same. It's all about example isn't it?” He looked at Syed who had turned to stare at them. “Mothers make all the difference – good or bad. We need more good mothers in the world.” Impetuously he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and was astonished when she began to sob, handing their son to his father so she could find comfort in Christian's arms.

 

**

“I feel like shit.” Syed was watching him make faces at Aftab, arms folded, leaning against the table. “She _is_ a good mother. I honestly never thought she would be, never gave it a moment's thought, just wanted what I wanted – wife, family – whether it was what _she_ wanted or not.” He stared hard at the door as if to verify that she was not on the other side, listening. “I made her stop taking contraception, Christian. Forced her to, manipulated and blackmailed her because I was so determined to deny what I was, pretend to be who I never could have been. Ever since I found out she'd had Aftab I've felt like shit, especially as she has never thrown that in my face. God knows I expected her to, almost, if I'm honest, wanted her to so that I could assuage the guilt by accepting her rage, her recrimination, but all she cares about is Aftab. Obviously her dad couldn't care less that I'm his dad, that I have a right to know him, but she wants him to know me – not for my sake, but for his. She's changed, Christian.”

“I know,” he quietly agreed, perturbed by Syed's revelations, but trying hard not to dwell. He'd forced her to stop taking the pill? Forced her, when he'd known that he could hardly even bear to _touch_ her? The man Syed now was bore little relation to the man he'd been – self-centred, casually cruel, single-minded in his desire to self protect. Christian knew that that Syed hadn't been the real Syed, but phantom or not he'd left wounds, wounds that for some would take an age to heal.

Amira for all her front, for all her pretence of being okay, was clearly still fragile and part of that he felt was due to the fact that she hadn't confronted Syed, hadn't vented at him the way she'd allowed herself to with him. Christian now felt certain that this had everything to do with Aftab, that she was putting up a front for his sake, probably so that his father wouldn't have an excuse not to be in his life.

She was on her best behaviour, repressing all the anger and bitter resentment for his sake. Added to which was the fact that you didn't simply _stop_ loving someone simply because they'd hurt you.

It was clear to him that she still loved Syed; no wonder then that she'd finally broken down.

“I don't know what to do, Christian. I don't know how to make it up to her.”

“Be there for Aftab, be there for her,” he said simply, knowing that for Syed it would never be that simple.

Syed was silent for a long while, Christian sensing that his thoughts were drifting to the past and possibly the future, upstairs with the woman who probably hated herself for showing weakness in front of them, had probably been committed to making it clear just how strong she was despite everything.

Christian knew that this wasn't something that could be resolved with a few pretty photos, a few visits and pleasant small talk, but it was up to Syed. Amira was his issue to resolve – always had been. All Christian could do was act as a sounding board when he felt he needed that; a cheerleader when he needed that, a sergeant major when he needed _that_.

He couldn't tell Syed how to feel or what to do with those feelings; all he could do was be there for him; put his own feelings aside and be there...

**

The photographer was gay, which Christian found deliciously ironic, wondering if the universe had Amira's sweetheart of a dad in its sights and wondering too how he could possibly exploit this for all he was worth...

Amira, recognising the irony, had met his eye and smiled and for some reason it had struck him quite forcefully, then, that she simply didn't _recognise_ that Syed was gay, that intellectually she might be aware that he _said_ he was, that he and Christian were in a relationship, but in reality it simply just did not compute.

He had no idea what to do with this epiphany...

Syed was, as usual, discomfited by being hit on – not because he was with Christian or because his former wife was in the room, but simply because he didn't seem to know how to deal with other guys (outside of a club setting) flirting with him.

Christian wanted to shake him and ask him again if he was _sure_ he wasn't straight, but let it go – because Amira was there and there really was no need to make their relationship as in her face as it could have been. On that front they'd actually both been pretty low key, neither consulting the other about this, just instinctively making that choice.

“So let's have the daddies with baby then.”

He'd been about to protest this, but when he met Amira's eye she'd merely shrugged so he'd gone unprotesting , enduring what felt like the most unnecessarily innuendo laden 15 minutes of his life, trying to ignore the crawling, slimy feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach as it became clearer and clearer just precisely how the photographer was reading the dynamics of the relationship between the 3 adults. Judging by the tension in Syed's body he was feeling the same way.

He almost sang hallelujah when at last the man took his paraphernalia, his flirting and salty innuendoes out the door with him.

Except he too now felt like shit, wondering if there would ever come a time when some external factor wouldn't cause them to recall their shared history, inviting the guilt to feed on them – heart, mind, soul.

He could hardly bear to look Amira in the face, wanting nothing more than to leave and nurse his guilty regret in private.

How had he ever imagined that this could ever be anything but excruciating?

“My dad's going to love him,” Amira said, a wicked smile on her face as she rocked the very, very alert and determinedly staring Aftab in her arms. “I can't wait.”

Syed clearly wasn't going to respond so it was left to him to pick up the olive branch she'd offered them. “Well I think he was doing that for our benefit. I think your dad will get it really _straight_ come Saturday.”

She laughed. “I've always found that funny – how you gay guys can camp it up one minute then play it straight the next – for the right audience.”

“Oh it's a skill darling.” He kissed her hair, placed a gentle finger on Aftab's tiny nose. “I've seen you rein it in for the 'older folk' too, love, so it's not just us queer folk who've got it down.”

“I can't argue with that,” she admitted, smiling into her son's face. “You know, you were the best thing, Christian, the best thing about Albert Square.” Her voice had changed, become solemn and low as though they were exchanging confidences, and almost instinctively Christian found himself bracing, waiting for the talons of guilt to find themselves the tenderest portion of his flesh. “I would have made it my home, because I did eventually see the worth of the place, the worth of the people. Took me a while, I'll admit that. But you, Christian, you made it worth my while. I trusted you – more than any of my girlfriends - because you made me feel special. You didn't lie to me, told it to me straight, but you made me feel beautiful. You'd praise me, notice what I was wearing, what I'd done differently to my hair. You saw me, Christian, in the way most people never do. I miss you.” She was crying again and as he held her he looked up to find that Syed was no longer in the room...


End file.
